


For His Sake, Do Not Break

by CrypticWonder



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-23 17:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20012245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticWonder/pseuds/CrypticWonder
Summary: When Lesion had signed up for the extended version of the Resistance to Interrogation course, he had hoped it would just be preparing for the worst. He had never expected to really put it to use, especially when they never taught him how to prepare himself when it wasn’t himself being tortured, but someone who means the world to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ship Headcanons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992971) by [kiki_92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92). 



> Before anything else, I’d like to thank kiki_92 for allowing to base this off one of their HC works.
> 
> This work does include graphic depictions of violence, specifically torture, so if you’re sensitive to that type of stuff, I’d suggest you click away. In fact, I’ll add a link to some cute animals.
> 
> https://www.boredpanda.com/cute-baby-animals/

It was supposed to be a simple mission, key word _supposed._ A typical hostage protection situation: once the attacking team secured the perimeter, the defending team was assigned to pull protection duty, ensuring the safety of the hostage, this time a high-level politician in his chalet, hidden away in the French Alps. A simple five man squad was deployed, consisting of Frost, Kapkan, Valkyrie, Lesion, and Echo. The first few waves of White Masks had been laughably easy, poorly trained grunts stumbling down the stairs, uncoordinated and easily spotted by Echo’s _Yokai,_ which in turn relayed the information to Kapkan, who made quick work of them with a well place nitro cell. The team had been expecting, even prepared for the worst, but all the only opposition they were met with was a terrible excuse for cannon fodder.

The first sign of what was to come was when Kapkan hadn’t reported back for the half-hourly sit-rep, worrying Frost immensely. While the two lovers often quarreled over Basuda’s inherent recklessness while roaming, they were still more than willing to trade their own life for each other’s. Quickly dragging Valkyrie along, the two had searched across the chalet, eventually finding Kapkan curled up in a corner, his sub-machine gun discarded, handgun ready to fire at anyone its handler deemed an enemy. Scorch marks were littered all across his uniform, his blackened surroundings and tattered remains of a White Mask uniform indicating a suicide bomber had detonated dangerously close to Maxim. While he was still somewhat stable, Kapkan would still need to extracted as soon as possible in order for Doc to treat his injuries and possible burns. While waiting, he would be forced to stay closer to the hostage, playing more as an anchor than roamer. With Kapkan down, one of the four others were forced to step up to the reconnaissance mission, roaming about the AO to report on the oncoming clusters of White Masks. Although none of them had the particular kit for the role, Echo eventually elected himself, stating that his lightweight, yet surprisingly sturdy armor, he was the best suited for the position, with Lesion reluctantly agreeing, saying that, “Just because you’re the best suited, doesn’t mean I have to like it”.

And with that, Echo set off, Supernova clutched tightly in his grip, his knife and P226 in their holsters, and a _Yokai_ in its respective utility bag.

* * *

The first two hours had passed rather uneventfully, with the only hostile contact being a handful of terrorists every half hour or so. Only once did he have to report a squad too large for him to engage on his own, which he supposed was better for those that hung back to attack at a distance to ensure the hostage’s safety. It wasn’t until nearly midnight when he was spotted by a rather large team of White Masks, this time armed with enough firepower that it nearly equaled what the defending team had been equipped with. The moment he spotted them, he knew that they would soon do the same. Preparing himself for the oncoming firefight, he quickly alerted the others to what seemed to be the White Masks answer to Team Rainbow, who donned all black uniforms and gear, contrary to their more common counterparts, viper insignias attached to all their shoulder pads and plate carriers.

Loading the last shell into his Supernova, Echo took cover behind the bar, listening for the tell-tale sound of a breach charge being placed. The moment he heard the dull slam of the explosive charge in the wooden barricade, he braced himself against the side of the bar, ready for the eventual blast. Although ready for the initial blast, it still slightly disoriented him, with the close distance of which it was detonated. Even if he was slightly disoriented, it was nothing compared to the _Yokai_ blasts he subjected himself to in order to build a tolerance, or at least resistance to his own creation’s devastating effects, should they ever be hacked by an unknown force (even if that was an extremely low chance, it was always better to be safe rather than sorry). Firing off a few well placed shots, he managed to kill two of the elites, and incapacitated another.

As the rest of the team scrambled to cover their wounded men, the firefight quickly escalated to a small battle, well placed rounds being shot from all different angles, although most managed to hit in the Japanese defender’s general area, his chances of being shot ever-so-quickly increasing with every magazine being emptied in his direction. Swearing his shotgun’s small ammo capacity, Echo ducked behind the bar one last time, loading the last of his shells into his Supernova, and his last magazine into his P226. _Well, if this is how I go out, so be it. If not, I swear I’m gonna fucking hug Yumiko once I get home for putting up with me for so long._

Emerging from his cover one last time, Echo fired the last of his shotgun shells, emptied his magazine in his handgun, discarding them both, before finally lowering himself in a half-crouched stance with his knife, ready to lunge at whoever came near him. Apparently, the Elites had thought it would be more interesting to match him, one of their men unsheathing their own knife, before sprinting towards the defender. As the two exchanged blows, too focused on each other to care about much else, one of the Elites snuck behind Echo, swiftly delivering a blow to the head, knocking him out cold. Finally sheathing his blade, the Elite let out a low whine, disappointed that his fight was ended prematurely. As he pulled up his balaclava, he saw his superior shooting him a hard glare, forcing him to lower it once again. As he approached the unconscious Rainbow operator, he grabbed a rag from the bar, gagging him before tightening the knot behind his head. While preparing himself to carry the larger man, he noticed a radio strapped to his utility belt, mentally reminding himself to show it to his commander once he got his prize outside.

* * *

Lesion had the feeling that something had gone wrong when he had lost connection to the _Yokai_ , but chose not to say anything about it, as to not further push his team into the inescapable well of paranoia. Finally prying himself from the chair he had plopped himself into, he strode to the others, announcing that he would be off to check on his lover, before giving them strict orders to evacuate the premises once the helicopters arrived, even if he wasn’t with them. Although they had attempted arguing with him, they decided to stay quiet when they saw the hard glint in his eyes, choosing instead to nod in affirmation. As Lesion picked up his T-5 SMG, mind running through the possibilities, the radio crackled to life, an unknown voice piercing their already thin veil of concealment (didn’t he order the team to practice total radio silence past twelve?). Glancing towards the two women, they nodded, a silent indication to pick up.

“Who is this?” A simple question, one that could easily be answered, yet he was greeted with silence for at least a beat.

“We have your friend,” the voice had replied. Four very firm, concise words, yet it was more than enough to shake the trio to their core, Lesion especially.

Stabilizing his breathing, he responded as evenly as he could. “Are you sure? We have all our people here.” Despite his best efforts, his voice still trembled slightly, giving away his bluff.

“Don’t even bother, friend. We know he’s one of yours; the question, however, is if you’re willing to trade his life for the man you have in your possession, all in order to keep your precious asset alive. Are you willing to make a decision your friend had no say in?”

Hands still shaking, Lesion slowly formed the words in his mind, then deliberately slowed his pace when voicing them to the Echo’s mystery kidnappers. “Why don’t we find a place to meet, talk about this like reasonable men, Mr. . ?”

“You can call me Morgan, but for now, let’s find us a place to meet, yes? I bring your man, as intact as we can of course, and you bring us ours, handguns only. How’s that sound?”

Turning to the others, he looked to them for support, only to see them avoiding eye contact, a silent prompt to make his own decision. “Okay, okay. We bring you the hostage, and you bring us our teammate, alright?”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement, sir. I’ll see you in and hour, meet us in the dining room.”

Tossing the radio away as if were on fire, Lesion backed himself against a wall, slowly allowing himself to slide down, eyes downcast. The remains of those who were still conscious were silent for a moment too many, Valkyrie finally voicing what the other two had been thinking about. “Are we really gonna trade the hostage for Echo?”

Looking towards the Cantonese defender, Frost’s eyes softened in pity, understanding the emotional scrutiny the man was under, between choosing his lover’s, or the man he swore to protect’s safety.

As Lesion’s gaze finally lifted, he proposed a rather risky idea. “What if we pass Kapkan off as the hostage?”

Although Frost was quick to his defense, the more she contemplated the thought, the more she rationalized it _could_ work. Eventually nodding in agreement, the three were soon formulating an alibi as to why the “hostage” was so badly injured, whilst also searching for escape routes (preferably with Echo in tow), should the meeting go wrong, to which all three decided was more than likely to happen. And with that, the three set to work setting up the most suitable situation, loading their favored sidearms and sheathing their knives.

* * *

Despite what Morgan had said, his team was doing their best to make him unwound, to spill highly classified secrets, to tell them something, _anything,_ about the mysterious Team Rainbow. Despite having only been conscious for a short half hour, Echo had already counted a grand four ways they have attempted to pry something from him. As if expecting him to bend at the slightest pressures, they had began their interrogation by asking nicely. When that hadn’t worked, they had grown slightly more impatient, deciding to land a few blows. With his hands tied behind his back, and he himself planted in a chair, Echo had little more than his undershirt to soften the blows, serving him absolutely no purpose than to flutter about after a blow had made its mark, most of them aimed at his chest or face. At some point in time (it was becoming increasingly harder to keep track of time), they had finally realized that typical interrogation tactics would have little to no effect on him, much to the joy of one of the men, who giggled like a child giddy after getting sweets from the candy shop. Dragging out a cart full of equipment, the main interrogator, whose name was apparently Coleman, had grabbed a rag, dipping it in frigid water, before tilting Echo’s chair back, throwing the rag over his face. Tuning out all other senses, the defender focused only on listening for the tell-tale sloshing of the water can, waiting with baited breath. Finally hearing the can approach dangerously close, he discreetly held his breath, gently blowing air through his nose in order to keep at least _some_ of the water from flooding his nostrils.

As a torrent of icy cold water splashed down upon him, his body nearly overruled what his mind commanded, a small gasp escaping him as the water continued to pour down on him, the water flowing down his throat, essentially choking him. His captives noticing his small slip-up, decided to capitalize on the mishap, tilting the jerry can further down, the water flowing through at even more rapid pace. At last, one of the men had stopped Coleman, finally allowing Echo a chance to breath after nearly two minutes of nearly non-stop water drenching him. Silently praying to whatever gods existed, Echo thanked his S.E.R.E.* training for preparing him for interrogation tactics. Had it not been for the resistance to interrogation training he had undergone when he was in S.A.T. training, and later when applying for Team Rainbow, Echo feared he would have spilt highly classified information already. Feeling his chair being tipped forwards, his chair finally upright once more, one of the masked men peeled the rag off his face, another armed with a rather hefty looking wrench right in front of him. Twirling the wrench in his hands, the man circled Echo, a predator stalking its prey, he asked once the magic questions once again. “Who are your teammates, who do you work for, and what do you do?”

Finding it within himself to look his captor in the eyes, he stated only what Articles** dictated he was to say. “Masaru Enatsu, Specialist. October 31st, 1980.”

Groaning, Coleman began to walk away, muttering, “goddammit, this shit _again?”_

As he turned away, just as quickly as he had left, the Elite had snapped back around, heaving the wrench over his head before slamming it down on Enatsu’s kneecap, shattering the bone in one swift motion. Suppressing a scream, the only noise heard from him was a stifled whimper of pain, and understandably so. Although all the operators of Team Rainbow knew the risks, and many had high pain tolerances from years of time on the field, all humans still had their limits, and Masaru was slowly approaching that point. Spreading his arms in a showman-like pose, Coleman turned the tip of the wrench towards him. “I’ll ask you one more time; who are your teammates, who do you work for, and what do you do?”

Just like every other time, Echo responded the same way, stating only his name, rank, and date of birth. Before the interrogator had the chance to break his other knee, an older man bursted in, ordering him to immediately halt the session. Although a thick Eastern European accent laced his voice, he was still able to decipher most of his words. “Stop everything and start packing. We’re going to talk with the defenders and try to wager a deal. Oh, and bring the boy; he may prove as a powerful tool for our leverage.”

Snapping to attention, the former nodded in affirmation, before moving to clean everything up. Still strapped to the chair, Enatsu took a moment to look around, analyzing his surroundings, before another man, a rather burly one at that, strode in, grabbing him by the arm. As he freed his arms from behind the chair, he shifted slightly, the larger man possibly taking it as a small attempt to escape. Whatever the motive, the man punched Echo in the eye, the sheer force of the impact enough to nearly rattle him off the chair, had he not been held down in by his attacker. As he was yanked up onto his feet, one of the men threw a sack over his head, before leading him out to the meeting.

* * *

The dining room had ben quiet, somehow virtually untouched by both teams, despite it usually being a high-traffic area, until it had been used as a meeting point, at least. Walking in had been nerve-racking to say the least. With Frost and Valkyrie behind him, dragging an unconscious Kapkan in between them, Lesion knew that if they suspected anything, the entire meeting would erupt in a flurry of violence, and his chances of getting to Echo would shrink to near impossibility. When he entered, three men were already posted near the man he assumed was Morgan, who was sitting down in one of the many luxurious seats near the dining table. Finally finding a suitable place to lay Basuda down, the three stood cautious, poised to react to anything they perceived as a threat.

Finally breaking the tense silence, Morgan gestured to one of the empty seats. “Please, do you make yourself comfortable, sit.”

Deciding to play his games, Lesion sat down, eyes still glued to the man across from him. “We have the hostage; where is Echo?”

Feigning surprise, Morgan snapped his fingers twice, prompting one of his men to come forward, a man with a hood over his head in tow. Pulling off the hood, it revealed Echo, who was looking just as calm as someone who had been beat, tortured, and then brought before their lover would be. When he had tried to say something, the gag dutifully muffling his words, one of the sentries had hit him behind the head, his body dropping to the floor limply, his eyes holding a far away look. Behind Lesion, he heard the two gasp softly, wishing he could do the same; alas, he needed to keep a calm, collected façade, showing no emotion. “You said you were going to bring him in one piece.”

Sparing but one glance to the prone man slumped over at his feet, Morgan chuckled, a truly cold, laugh, devoid of any emotion except a twisted form of glee, achieved only through the suffering of others. “Well, he _is_ in one piece, physically, but mentally? Oh, I’m not so sure.”

Gritting his teeth, Lesion spoke between clenched jaws. “Give us our man, and we’ll consider handing over the asset.”

Shaking his head, Morgan began to tut in disapproval. “Now, now, that was _not_ what we agreed to, you and I both know that. How ‘bout you hand over our hostage, and we consider not killing your boy? Or better yet, we’ll take both and just leave. I’ve heard some of our men have refined their ability to, shall we say _convince_ others to join our cause.”

Before anyone had the chance to react, one of the Elites drew his revolver, firing three deliberate shots, two near Frost and Valkyrie, another at Lesion’s right leg, rendering unable to run. As the two women scrambled to cover, releasing their handguns from their holsters, Lesion tumbled out of his seat, his pistol already in his hand. As the Frost dragged Kapkan away from the gunfight, who was now very much conscious, but unarmed, Valkyrie attempted to lay down suppressive fire, keeping the Elites right where they were, while Lesion slowly dragged himself away. Cooking a frag grenade, Morgan tossed it eight between Lesion and the others, once again sending them all scrambling in different directions. While Frost, along with Valkyrie’s help, had managed to drag both Maxim and herself _away_ from the area, and out of the chalet, Lesion had been forced to crawl _towards_ the Elites, putting him in a rather compromising situation. Before he had the chance to get away, Morgan had grabbed him by the collar, dragging him towards Echo’s almost lifeless body, Lesion was forced to see exactly what they had done to his lover; his hair had been matted with blood, the jet black locks now tinted with crimson red streaks, his face battered and bruises already beginning to form around his eye. “You see him? Masaru is his name, right? Yeah, that sounds right. Well, once we’re done with you, you know what we’re gonna do with him?”

When Lesion had responded with only a hard glare, he slapped him across the face, before continuing his monologue. “Well, we’re going to reprogram his entire mind, make him think you and his friends are his enemies. Genius, innit? We can send him right back into Team Rainbow, and whenever we please, we can just send him word to wipe _everyone_ out, and they’ll be none the wiser; after all, why would one of their own, especially one that’s been with them for so long, betray them?”

Finally finishing his little rant, Morgan rallied his men, ordering them to carry them out to their extraction helo, where they would all be transported to White Mask Headquarters. Now, disarmed and with a bullet wound in his leg, Lesion had no choice but to accept his fate, and pray that Frost and Valkyrie would heed his orders and leave him. The only good he saw out of this was that the asset was safe, and now he could keep tabs on Enatsu.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much, but same warnings as before: intense imagery, disturbing depictions of torture, the works . If you can read the first one, you can probably stomach the second one.

When Lesion had been jolted awake, his first reaction had been to try looking around. Not quite impossible, but still incredibly difficult to look when a black hood had been thrown over his head. Tuning his senses to focus on the sounds around him, multiple voices in his close proximity could be heard chattering, the spinning of the helicopter’s rotors muffling any other noises. One of them men near him must’ve noticed his awakening, as the hood was soon lifted off his head. Looking around, he realized that the helicopter they were in was actually rather large, comparable to the Chinooks Team Rainbow themselves used. His gaze focusing on the people around him, he saw that he had no chance of escape, even if he wasn’t recovering from fatigue and a wounded leg (granted, they had bandaged the wound and fed him painkillers). Surrounding him were two guards, both armed to the teeth with various rifles, handguns, and knives. Across from him, the entire row was filled with more men, at least three-quarters of them regular Elites; from the looks of it, the rest were officers, judging by the berets they wore, the black headpieces covering part of their left eyes. Turning to the weight on his shoulder, he saw Masaru sleeping soundly, his head laying on his shoulder. Smiling softly, Lesion took a small amount of solace in the view, despite the bruises, knowing that soon both he and the person he held so dearly would be tortured within inches of their lives, constantly brought to the tipping point, and then back, all in an attempt to force highly confidential information out of them. Closing his eyes, Lesion attempted to find sleep once again, his eyes finally drooping down, allowing him to drift off. . .

Until he was brought back to consciousness with an electric shock to the thigh, Echo getting the same treatment. Eyes now wide open, Lesion’s gaze flitted across the helicopter, before finally settling on Morgan, who had emerged from the cockpit. “Alright, everyone up! We’re finally back, so let’s get these two acquainted with their new quarters, now!”

All the men had stood up, snapping to attention. Now bustling around quickly but quietly, the two defenders were hoisted up by the shoulders, a soldier at each arm, lifting them onto their feet. Pushed down the ramp, the pair shuffled into the bunker, guards watching them at every corner they passed. Finally stopping before a door, the two were forced into a fairly small room, clearly split into four areas, joined by a small common room. To the left was a bedroom, a bunk bed with only very thin sheets already set up. In the back, a small bathroom, with only a sink and toilet. By far the most menacing room of all however, was the one on the right; decorating the room were two chairs placed in the center, along with racks which Lesion had assumed was for hanging up the torture devices.

Led to the sink, one of the men put a handcuff in his hand and around one of the pipes, a blindfold also draped over his eyes, his only viable senses now being his hearing. Near him, he heard the familiar rattling of handcuffs against a chair, presumably being used on Echo. Hearing the buzzing of the electric prod, Lesion prepared himself for the shock, except it never came. Instead, he heard a pained yelp to his right.

_Masaru._

Blind eyes desperately trying to see, Lesion’s head turned to where he assumed Echo was being held. The shocks finally relenting, Lesion’s blindfold was removed, Enatsu presented before him. Not surprisingly, behind him was Morgan, device still in hand. “Now that we’re all here, I’ll be blunt; we all know what me and my boys are capable of doing to you and your boy, so make this easy for yourself, just tell us what we need to know, and we’ll treat you nicely until Rainbow sends a team to extract you guys. Whaddaya say? You gonna make things easier on yourselves?”

Gaze flicking to Echo, his eyes answered for him as clearly as they could.

_Do not tell them anything._

Shaking his head, Lesion tried to look sympathetic. “Unfortunately, no matter what you do to me or him, neither of us are saying a word.”

Laughing, Morgan dropped his head. “Oh, don’t you worry. We aren’t going to do much to you, no, we know that you two have something, so we’ll just focus on him. I hope you enjoy the view!”

Before anyone had the chance to say anymore, a grunt had pushed in a cart full of devices, including an assortment of knives, a hammer, and another jerry can and rag. Wearily eyeing the jerry can, Masaru’s hands clenched involuntarily, prepared for the worst to come. Fingers gliding over the tools, Morgan swiftly picked up a rather sharp looking knife, one that had quickly been identified as a utility knife. Hands roaming about Echo’s chest, slowed only by small shifts Enatsu had made in a rather desperate attempt to get away, they settled on the collar of his undershirt, before using the knife the slice garment in half. Taking a moment to step back, Morgan bit his lip, obviously admiring the man before him (and Lesion would be lying if he didn’t feel a pang of jealousy and anger flare through him). Lightly tracing Enatsu’s abdomen with the flat of the knife, the cool touch of the blade making him jump a bit, Morgan followed the ridges of his well-sculpted chest, until finally slicing a light mark right below his collarbone. Wincing, Echo let out a soft gasp, blood already slowly dribbling out. Across from him, Lesion began tugging at the pipes, feeling it give a slight bit.

“You know, they _will_ send a team for us, it’s just a matter of when.” Eyes flicking from Morgan to the pipe, Lesion attempted to divert his attention to little avail.

Eyes still glued to his carvings, Morgan replied, “Oh, I know, but how they find us if they don’t know what they’re looking for? You see, that’s the magic of putting our headquarters in such an obscure place; it’s so hidden amongst the area that they don’t even know what they’re looking for.”

Repositioning his grip on the blade, Morgan held the small knife as if it were a pencil, crouching at his level, before cutting into Enatsu’s chest, above the first cut. Humming an old army tune, Morgan set to work, slowly, but meticulously carving letters into his chest. Looking up, Morgan gave Masaru a curious look. “You know, you don’t need to act so tough. You can scream if you want, nobody would mind.”

Digging a bit further, Morgan pushed deeper into his flesh, eliciting a pained scream, blood flowing out at an even faster rate. Still tugging at the pipe, Lesion eventually managed to yank a bit of the pipe out, allowing him to slip the cuffs out, freeing him. Still limping, Lesion launched himself at Morgan with all his might, landing on his back, using his own body weight to push down. Using the cuffs to choke him, the Cantonese defender pushed down on his neck, desperately trying to at least knock him out. Hands trying to get a hit on Lesion, his hands finally pushed themselves to his handgun, firing a single shit into the air, alerting the guards outside.

Taking a moment to rip the pistol from his hand, Lesion quickly rose to his feet, dragging Morgan with him, pressing the sidearm against his head. As the sentries bursted in, rifles raised, poised to fire on any threats, they saw Morgan’s compromising situation, weapons rapidly lowering as to not accidentally shooting their superior. Pressing the barrel further into his temple. “Now, men, you’re going to let my friend here and myself go, you are going to let us leave, understood?”

Before any of the men had the chance to respond, Morgan began to shoot off orders in what seemed to be rapid fire French, much to Lesion’s confusion. One by one, the men slowly began to peel out of the room.

Before he knew it, a small team of heavily armored personnel came in, tranquilizer guns at the ready. Weakly lifting his head up, Enatsu waved Lesion down, pointing towards the air ducts. “Tze Long–“ a racking cough. “The vents. . . knockout gas.”

Backing himself towards the wall, Tze Long himself began to find it difficult to breath, eventually releasing Morgan, who was quickly tossed a spare gas mask. Coughing up a storm, Liu collapsed, vision blurry, the last thing he saw being Morgan standing over him, a victorious smile gracing his features.

* * *

When Tze Long had reawakened, he was first greeted by a blinding white light, then an unknown voice. Moving his hand to cover his eyes, the movement was hindered by cold metal, handcuffs chained to both his hands. Realizing that he was on a cot, Lesion saw a new face waiting for them in a chair nearby. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it too bright? I’ll go turn it down right now.”

Squinting, he saw an unusually young boy scuttle over to a switch, lowering the brightness of the rusted fluorescent lights hanging above. Rolling back to his bedside, the boy brought over a bottle of water and granola bar, presenting it to him with a small smile. Hands beginning to reach for the nutrient bar, he barely managed to stop himself before his hands were pulled back by the handcuffs. Picking up a pair of keys, the boy looked at him, an accent weaved into his voice. “Right, right. Can’t eat if you can’t use your hands. I trust you won’t kill me or something?”

Oh, a greenhorn, and a British at that. Not an uncommon sight, but still unsettling to see a boy so young working for a terrorist organization. Nodding, Lesion had considered a joke, but in his situation, he feared it might scare the boy. _Act casual, try to get to know the kid. Maybe if you play nice he will too._

“Nope, not from me. Besides, I’m sure even if I tried it a guard would be putting a bullet in my brain within seconds.” The boy smiled, slowly unlocking the rigid cuffs, handing over the granola bar and a bottle of water. Making sure to eat slowly (after all, eating too quickly would just make his hunger pangs worse), Liu pointed to the bed next to him, a questioning look gleaming through his otherwise dull eyes.

“You– you don’t recognize him? That’s the guy you were brought in with!”

Tze Long scoffed, disbelief lacing his voice. “That? Masaru doesn’t have any chest injur– oh, _right.”_ _Great, how was he supposed to explain_ that _to Masaru and the rest of Team Rainbow?_

Grimacing, the boy nodded. “ _Yeah,_ I can see how that can pose a huge problem. Oh, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself! I’m Will Henderson, the base’s resident doc, and probably the one person the White Masks wouldn’t shoot without hesitation that isn’t one of their own.”

Gulping down the water, Lesion nodded along. “Aren’t you awful young for a doctor? You look like you’re what, twenty-seven?”

Gaze turning downcast, Will sighed. “Yeah, well you see, I was from a local military installation, the British Army had sent to train troops, when the White Masks rolled in, offering to generously pay us to keep quiet about their whereabouts.

A few people in my squad tried to fight back, but they got dropped pretty quickly. When they saw my caduceus patch they made another offer. They told me that if I came with them willingly, they wouldn’t kill the rest of my squad and the men we had been tasked to train, and everyone would be treated fairly, but if I tried to resist, they would kill everyone, and make all my waking hours a living hell. Seeing where I am now, you can tell which choice I made.”

Finishing the last drops of water, Lesion slowly put the bottle away, glancing to his side when he heard a pained moan. Sliding across the room in his office chair, Will raised the back of the cot, pushing Echo into a nearly upright sitting position. Rolling around the room, Will gave Masaru another granola bar and water bottle he had scrounged up from his supply closet. “Thanks,” he had croaked, voice hoarse from hours of torture he had been subjected to in retaliation for Lesion’s failed escape, until Morgan had decided he had been brought too close to the edge. ~~It was obvious the man had an affection for the younger man, even if nobody else knew exactly why~~. Attempting to sit up, Enatsu winced, glancing down upon his bandaged chest. Before he had the chance to touch the multiple layers of bandages, Will grabbed his hand, tutting softly. “Hey, hey, no touching. It’ll only make the engravings worse, and I assure you, that is the _last_ thing you need right now.”

Looking up at the doctor, Echo’s eyes were filled with fear, breathing becoming increasingly erratic. “Engravings– _no_. No, no no _no._ He didn’t really. . ?”

Leaning towards the Japanese defender, Lesion tried to grab his wrist, but instead redirected to his thigh when his hand was swatted away. “Darling, you need to calm down. I know this is difficult to comprehend, but panicking will only make things worse. Deep breaths, take deep breaths.”

As the man eventually slowed his breathing, Lesion was unknowingly presented with Masaru’s first panic attack, although it would not be the last for years to come. Gradually calming down, the three began to exchange stories of their time in service, until Henderson had glanced at the clock hanging above his desk, muttering something about most of the men probably waking by now. Opting to turn off the overhead fluorescents, Will tapped a few buttons on his touchpad, the curtains lifting to reveal the rising sun, a lazy haze of orange enveloping the mountains surrounding the bunker. Quickly shuffling to Tze Long, Will produced a small SAT phone from his pocket, placing it in his open hand. “Look, you haven’t got much time until the guards come in to check up on you, but since we have a few minutes, take this and call whoever you work for. Word’s been that you guys work for some super-secret organization, so call them for help, call anyone, but make it quick, okay?”

Nodding, Lesion punched in the secured line, his chest heaving in relief when he heard Doc’s tired, but familiar voice picking up. “Hello? Who is this, and how do you know this number?”

Voice hushed, Lesion replied quickly, but still clear enough that Doc could understand his words without having to repeat himself. “Doc, it’s me, Lesion. Look, I don’t have much time, but I’m being held in Afghanistan, near the Hindu Kush. Look for a dip in the range, you’ll see a bunker if you look hard enough.”

Across the line, a distinct scrambling, followed by a hurried writing could be heard, no doubt Doc trying to write down what he was hearing before he forgot. “Okay, are there any other distinguishing landmarks? Anything to tell the area by?”

“Look, I haven’t got much time, just look for an antenna that doesn’t belong.” Rushing to return the phone, a group of guards burst in, as Will shoved device into his pocket, Morgan following close behind.

“Planning to leave us so soon, Henderson? Pity, I truly enjoyed your presence, as I’m sure many of my men would agree.” Feigning sadness, Morgan unholstered his revolver, aiming it at the doctor.

“Oh, no, sir! I would never leave without your explicit permission, I swear! I was just gonna page the guards and see when they were arriving!”

Tutting slowly, Morgan shook his head. “You know, the one thing I hate more than traitors are liars, and guess what? I suppose you’re both, so I am afraid this is the end of the line for you. Goodbye, Will.”

Closing his eyes, Will’s expression was quite blank; no anguish or sadness, only acceptance. Pulling back the hammer, Morgan stepped forwards, pressing the barrel against the young man’s forehead. One resonating _bang_ reverberated around the room, a dull thud soon following suit. Watching the Brit’s lifeless body fall to the ground, Lesion felt nothing except an immediate guilt, and an intense anger, a flame rekindled inside himself, urging him to lunge for the man, to take avenge all those he had harmed and killed. Turning to the two cot-bound operators, Morgan pressed his index finger to his lips, a “quiet” signal a small warning to what could happen if they chose to disobey. Stepping over the body in his way, Morgan strode to Enatsu’s side, softly stroking his cheek as he cooed nonsense to the younger man, who made no effort to fight back, only staring past him at the body presented before him.

* * *

The next few days had passed by in a haze, the only notable changes being the pair being moved back to the cold, desolate room that was their holding cell, where more questions were asked, and more pain was inflicted upon the two, Echo still taking the brunt of the torture. By the time Rainbow had arrived to their rescue, both operators were in a near comatose state, deprived of both food, water, and most importantly sleep, taking a massive toll on damaging their mental integrity. Most worryingly, they seemed to be detached from reality, barely reacting when Thermite’s exothermic charges had detonated in extremely close proximity to their position. When Hibana and Ying had rushed in (the two had nearly forced their way into the mission roster, worried sick for their ‘boys’), they had not found the two once-lively men that had wiggled their way into their lives, but rather detached shells of who they used to be. Even though they had eventually come back to their senses while being escorted out of the compound, neither men would ever be the same after. Once they got back on base, Doc had chalked up their emotional and mental separation as shell shock, an ailment they would most likely overcome in the weeks to follow, and overcome they did. Within days, Doc had already found the two cuddling in same cot, an amazing feat when taking into consideration how utterly _small_ the beds were, barely able to fit Echo comfortably. Speaking of Enatsu, while Tze Long had escaped with little more than some lacerations that would add to his collection of scars, Masaru had suffered more extensive injuries, ranging from a mild case of pneumonia from the waterboarding to electric burns and everything in between. One of the worst injuries he had sustained however, was of Morgan’s handiwork, his name being carved into his chest, forever scarring him. Despite Will’s best efforts before his untimely demise, a significant portion of the engraving would still be visible, a reminder more painful than any memory of their capture and torture could ever deliver. Although his physical injuries had taken a while to recover from, his mental state had taken an even longer time to heal, or at the very least return to a healthy state.

For months, any touch would scare him out of his skin, a brush against his chest or the side of face sometimes pushing him into an involuntary fight-or-flight reaction, many times resulting in him fleeing to a more secluded area of the base. Sleep was often hard for him to come by, and whenever he could bring himself to close his eyes, he was terrified of being alone, resulting in him oftentimes sleeping on the floor of Hibana’s room, Echo himself unable to bring himself to sleep on the small bed she had set up for him along the wall, reminding him of his time strapped to a gurney, while he was subjected to stabs and cuts along his body. Over time, he had finally allowed himself to sleep in the same bed as Lesion, the older man bringing him a small amount of comfort in his arms. Years would pass, the occasional nightmare still plaguing the two’s sleep, either one subject to wake up in a cold sweat, the other slowly trying to coax them back to sleep.

When Lesion had been cleared for another mission a short eight months after the incident and then deployed, Echo had been worried out of his mind, the others having to constantly remind him that his lover was in safe hands, and what had happened would never occur to anyone again. Even though he had slowly built his physical state back to what it nearly was, it had taken Echo an excruciating year and a half for him to be cleared back for active service, his mental health a constant worry when out on deployment.

Slowly but surely, life had begun to normalize again for the two, nearly all CTU’s having contributed to their recovery, from the initial rescue to their marriage.

* * *

_Four years later. . ._

“Enatsu, you better hurry your ass up, or you’ll be late to your own marriage!”

Rolling up the last of his sleeves, Echo jogged out of the room, sporting a sharp black jacket and grey jeans. “I know, Mei Lin, but this jacket is really tight, okay? Are you sure you got the right size, because I’m quite sure this is a size too small.”

Rolling her eyes, Ying only scoffed. “Just shut up and get out there, okay? Everyone is here, so you better not embarrass yourself, and knowing you, you don’t exactly have a stellar history with social encounters.”

Laughing, Masaru strode out, head raised high, searching for the man he was looking for all day long. Eyes landing on Tze Long, Echo couldn’t help but smirk; as expected, Lesion defied all expectations, wearing an excessively colorful Hawaiian shirt along with his classic cargo short, lovingly nicknamed by many of the other operators as the ‘dad shorts’. Going along with his tropical outfit, Liu sported a pair of sunglasses and his signature toothpick. Acting as their impromptu minister, Maestro stood between them as happy as he could be, a smile gracing his features.

Looking across to everyone at the reception, Adriano needed no microphone for his voice to be projected across. “As I’m sure you all know now, these two lovebirds have finally decided to get hitched! Now, before all hell breaks loose like always, let’s just get our vows over with, yes?”

Two nods, and a whole lot of whooping from the pews. Clearing his throat, Maestro continued along.

“We are here today to celebrate the holy union of Masaru and Tze Long .A marriage is a very special ceremony. For Masaru and Tze Long, this ceremony means that they will count on one another, that they will treat one another with care and respect, and that they will continue to share their lives with each other as partners, as friends, and to go on building their future together. This ceremony expresses the spiritual bond that they experience together. Every relationship of love between human beings is holy, sacred, worthy of celebration and public affirmation, so I am delighted today to perform this ceremony of holy union for two people who love and honor one another.

What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow, to share with each other in all gladness, to be one with each other in the silent unspeakable memories?

Masaru and Tze Long, thank you for inviting us to witness your commitment to each other in holy union. You honor us with your trust and friendship. May your love grow sure and strong and true in the days and years of your shared life together. As you enter this deep relationship, be aware that you risk great happiness as well as sorrow. Relationship is a crucible for becoming your true selves. But remember, you do not possess one another and each of you will need solitude as well as togetherness. As Albert Camus once said: ‘Don’t walk before me, I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.’

I say to you gathered here today: Do you who know and care for Masaru and Tze Long give them your blessings now, as they enter into this new relationship, and do you promise in the days and years ahead to give them your deepest love, understanding, and support during both good times and bad? If so, please say ‘We do’.”

Reverberating across the church hall, forty-odd voices could be heard repeating “I do!”

Smiling, Adriano continued once again. “Masaru and Tze Long, it is time to say the pledges which will affirm your holy union. Please take each other’s hand, face each other, and repeat after me:

I, Masaru Enatsu, take you, Liu Tze Long, to be no other than yourself. Loving and trusting of what I know of you, with respect to your integrity, and with faith in your love for me, through our years together, and in all that life may bring us, I accept you as my partner in life.”

Nodding, Echo repeated exactly what he was told. “I, Masaru Enatsu, take you, Liu Tze Long, to be no other than yourself. Loving and trusting of what I know of you, with respect to your integrity, and with faith in your love for me, through our years together, and in all that life may bring us, I accept you as my partner in life.”

“Now, Lesion, please repeat as I say: I, Liu Tze Long, take you, Masaru Enatsu, to be no other than yourself. Loving and trusting of what I know of you, with respect to your integrity, and with faith in your love for me, through our years together, and in all that life may bring us, I accept you as my partner in life.”

“I, Liu Tze Long, take you, Masaru Enatsu, to be no other than yourself. Loving and trusting of what I know of you, with respect to your integrity, and with faith in your love for me, through our years together, and in all that life may bring us, I accept you as my partner in life.”

Turning to the stands, Adriano glanced to James. “May I have the rings?” With a rushed vigor, Smoke tossed the two boxes, both of which were caught without a hitch. Presenting them to the couple, Maestro proceeded to return to his duties. “Let these rings be forever a symbol of the unbroken circle of love. Love freely given has no beginning and no end. Love freely given has no giver and no receiver, for each is the giver and each is the receiver. May these rings remind you always of the vows you have taken here today and may these rings be blessed by the love with which they are given.

Masaru, will you place this ring on Tze Long’s finger and say to him, ‘Liu Tze Long, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you.’”

Turning to the Cantonese man, “Tze Long, will you place this ring on Masaru’s finger and say to him, ‘Masaru Enatsu, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you.’”

As told, the two repeated the vows, much to the joy of everyone else in the pews.

“To Masaru and Tze Long, and all of you gathered here today, may the love in your hearts give you joy. May the greatness of life bring you peace. And may your days be good and your lives be long upon the earth. Masaru Enatsu, and Liu Tze Long, will you seal your marriage with a kiss?”

Grinning, Masaru replied with a quick “gladly”, before chasing Tze Long’s lips for a kiss, much to Team Rainbow’s approval. As the two officially sealed their marriage, the entire church hall was filled with joyous cheering, laughing, and clapping.

Recovering from Morgan’s hands had been an excruciatingly painful process, but from where they were when they first got out to where they are now, both would happily say they wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: 
> 
> Walking into Morgan’s holding cell, Enatsu was fully prepared for his snark, maybe a sky comment thrown his way. Except, nothing. No witty remarks, no snappy comments, absolutely nothing. Rolling up his jacket sleeves, Morgan glanced at his hands, taking notice of the ring on his finger. “So you two finally go married, huh? Congrats, I guess.”
> 
> Placing the ring down on a tray, Masaru curled his hand into a fist, slamming it across his face. “You sick fucker, don’t even talk about Tze Long. You don’t deserve to even comment on us, after all you’ve done.”
> 
> Laughing, Morgan shook his head. “After all I’ve done? I was cleansing the world of its impurities, of what had led us to ruin in the first place!”
> 
> Another dull thud of flesh on flesh, then another, and another. For an hour, Echo had beat him relentlessly, until Caveira had found him in his cell, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but still nothing compared to the damage wrought upon the former White Mask commander. Face battered and nose broken, it was painfully obvious that Enatsu had enacted his revenge in the most non-lethal way he could imagine: beating him senseless. And senseless he was, as he was very much unconscious by the time she had arrived
> 
> Softly calling out, Taina’s calls fell on deaf ears, until she finally decided to grab his shoulder, an almost fatal mistake. Fear taking over and becoming instinct, Echo’s hands shot out, grabbing her by the arms hand flipping her over, knee pressing down on her diaphragm. The air knocked out her lungs, Caveira gasped, hands beating against the Japanese defender’s much larger arms. Eventually realizing what he was doing, Enatsu immediately released her, apologizing profusely. Although she had said it was all fine, from that day, she had held Wcho to a certain amount of a fearful respect, and he just fear that he might do that again, but possibly to someone he had dearly to himself.
> 
> –––––––––––
> 
> Just a little bonus scene I wanted to add but felt like it wouldn’t fit in with the ending. I apologize if it felt a little rushed, I’ve been working for hours on end without harely any sleep, so I understand if it feels sub-par.
> 
> Also, if anyone asks why I depict Echo as actually fit, the reality is that he probably is fit. Rainbow wouldn’t allow some lazy guy with a fancy drone if he was fat and out of shape, so I may as well be realistic with things.
> 
> Since I am done with the main part of this story, I’ll be going back to working on Old Men Need Their Tea, but as a side project, I may be working on a story divergence in which Echo does receive the White Mask’s brainwashing tactics, and in turn becomes their sleeper agent. As always, please comment or leave a kudos! Tell me what you did or didn’t like, or what stood out to you!
> 
> Huge thanks to Kiku_92 for allowing me to use their headcanons as the basis for this entire work!


End file.
